


Love Connection in Aisle Seven

by bex_xo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluffy fluff fluff fluff, chicken and wild rice soup, it fixes everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bex_xo/pseuds/bex_xo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa clutches onto the can of Progresso Chicken and Wild Rice soup like it's her life line, the very last can on the shelf, and in the entire store (she made them go look). It was just the thing she needed to finally be able to kick this cold that has been plaguing her the past two weeks. </p><p>“Miss, I'm really sorry about your luck here, but I clearly grabbed this soup before you did.” The man who is also holding onto the can of soup says. Sansa mentally named him “soup thief” because that's what he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Connection in Aisle Seven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WillowFaerie82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowFaerie82/gifts).



> willowfae asked for "We're both sick and reached for the same (last) can of soup" from a prompt list a few weeks back! So here's some gratuitous fluff.

“Look sir,” She starts with a sigh, pushing auburn wisps over hair out of her face. “I need that can of soup. It's June, I'm sick and my brother is getting married this Saturday. He's marrying my best friend, I'm the maid of honor, I can't be sick for this. The only thing that's ever made me feel half as good as the soup my mom makes.”   
  
Sansa clutches onto the can of Progresso Chicken and Wild Rice soup like it's her life line, the very last can on the shelf, and in the entire store (she made them go look). It was just the thing she needed to finally be able to kick this cold that has been plaguing her the past two weeks.   
  
“Miss, I'm really sorry about your luck here, but I clearly grabbed this soup before you did.” The man who is also holding onto the can of soup says. Sansa mentally named him “soup thief” because that's what he is.   
  
He's young, mid to late 20's, with unruly dark curls that he has pulled haphazardly away from his face, showing the gray of his eyes and the definition of his jaw line. Admittedly he looks nearly as bad as she knows she does, red nose and watery eyes, probably suffering from the same late season head cold as she is. Looking down she takes in his attire; gray sweatpants and a black t shirt emblazoned with the three headed dragon logo from The Dragon Pit, a swanky speakeasy style lounge where Margaery and Robb would be having their rehearsal dinner Friday night.  
  
“Ugh. Please? I'm literally going to beg you here. Can't you just give me the can of soup? I hear the chicken noodle is quite good.” She says, batting her eyelashes in an attempt to manipulate the attractive man in front of her.  
  
“I don't like chicken noodle.” The soup thief says, setting his jaw and leveling her with a glare that would be much more intimidating if he didn't sniffle his nose at the same time.   
  
“Who doesn't like chicken noddle?” Sansa asks, resisting the urge to sniffle her nose herself, when all she wants is to wipe it across the sleeve of her old sweatshirt.   
  
“If you like it so much, you should go and get some for yourself.” He says with a smug look of triumph, not that she's letting him get away with it.   
  
“Excuse me, uh?” Sansa says with a roll of her wrist followed by a nod of her head, prompting for a proper introduction from the soup thief.   
  
“Jon. Jon Snow. Pleasure to meet you.” He says with a genuine smile, extending his hand towards hers in an offer a peace.   
  
“Sansa. Sansa Stark. The pleasure is mine.” The reply comes like second nature, so does releasing her right hand from the can to offer it to Jon. Her eyes widen while his grin grows, the precious last can of soup clutched protectively to his chest.   
  
“You tricked me!” Sansa huffs, her voice cracking into a cough that she tries to hide in her sweatshirt sleeve.   
  
Jon laughs and his smile becomes even wider.   
  
“Yes, I did. I'm sorry about it, really I am. Let me make it up to you. Please.” Jon says and despite herself, Sansa is sorely tempted to accept the offer.   
  
“What would this entail, exactly?”   
  
“You could come with me to my place. Or we could go to yours. Plenty of soup in this can for the two of us.”  
  
“Do you have wine?” She says as she is honestly, and confusingly, contemplating this.  
  
“White. And plenty of Kleenex.” Jon offers.  
  
“This is a little weird. Asking a complete stranger out on a date in the soup aisle, don't you think?”  
  
“Sansa Stark. As in, Robb Stark's little sister. You're not the only one who needs soup to kick this cold before a wedding on Saturday.” As he says this, it suddenly hits her that this is the Jon, her brothers college roommate Jon, the best man in his wedding Jon.   
  
“How long have you known I'm Robb's sister?” Sansa asks, wrapping her arms self conciesouly around herself.   
  
“Well you look an awful lot like him for one. Mentioning the wedding on Saturday was the conformation I needed though.”   
  
Sansa feels herself blush and looks at her feet, before peeking up through her eyelashes to look at Jon.   
  
“If the offer is still on, I would love to have soup with you Jon.” She says with a soft smile on her face.   
  
Jon just smiles and nods, gesturing down the aisle toward the check out, and Sansa leads the way. It might be a little unconventional, meeting someone in a grocery store aisle, but she was bound to meet Jon soon anyway, so why not let fate take its course?

 


End file.
